A little rat in a maze(Closed for now)

The blonde man continued to chuckle periodically at the scene unfolding before him. Both Theo and Ahote could be quite cruel, specifically the latter. The Dreamweaver was coming to enjoy the guild master much more. He wanted to see him hurt, or follow him and enjoy the wake of his chaos. He only needed a little boost, from what the nightmare could tell. Could Theo perhaps be a catalyst for that? The crafty being of surreality mused to themselves as they considered all the possibilities, that was, until their symphony of thoughts was brought to a halt by the young girl.

The little bundle of potential was asking the right questions. Smiling down at her, the blonde nodded. “It’s hilarious, my dear~” Varian replied, before gazing back up at them once again. “The real question is why do you think he hates himself, though? I wonder…”

The hypothesis was not necessarily true, but it was a striking observation by the young Akeldama. Hinted that Ahote’s childhood was certainly rough, it would not surprise the Dreamweaver too much if he did have a few ounces of self loathing. To really know, however, the nightmare would need to invade his mindspace some more and spend extra time with him.

It wasn't uncommon for the serpents to bicker over morbid things to the societal eye and was to no one's surprise should their bickers ascend to brawls. Though to many people, it was to be expected of such hooligans. The violence, hostility, and yet those crowds often wound up tighter than an eight-day clock. One might even hesitate to mark them as friends. However, many of the serpents were otherworldly beings beyond humanity, and are therefore deemed impossible to rationalize through a humane lens in the eyes of the well-behaved. Even those who wore the flesh and walked among humans seemed far too complex and bitter to be accepted entirely. Perhaps the entire guild was a bunch of dangerous misfits?

Even so, Ahote's eyes went round and glowered with a swirl of awe and contempt. Why was it his hand that Theo so brashly brushed away? Why wouldn't he listen to him? The thought possessed the brooding man with a bewildering ire, so much so that his fingers twitched with the blood-pumping vexation.  His complexion became that of a ghost, the darkness of the corridor looming over his striking topaz pools until finally, silently, he inched forward with his metallic digits outwards, twitching in the light, "Ah. . ." the man croaked in a hushed, murmuring voice, "so you were pitying me. . ." Ahote continued to babble his fuming utters until the corners of his mouth crinkled and eyes sharpened to no wider than a rusty dagger. Briskly he latched fleshed fingers onto the peeved Theo's shoulder, and no sooner did his croaking, eerie words drip from his tongue did his clenched, metal fist lunge forward, smooth, cold knuckles slamming against the very edge of his companion's jaw.

Heavy, broken breaths escaped from his lungs as he had finally given his most irate punch in ages. His adrenalized force had been so exerted in the one lunge that even Ahote lost his footing for no less than a moment. His face contorted into an anguished frown, "Since when did I need a savior? You think I can't handle this shit? Is that how little you think of me? Huh?!" Ahote roared at such a volume akin to shouting, yet the corridors echoed in nothing but a discomforting bark.

Topaz eyes darted to the quizzical blond and the girl who shuffled closer to him, words weaving together in thinking they pair wouldn't have heard her. Ahote grimaced and chose not to say anything more to her besides give her an ill-tempered glimpse.

Labored breaths continued float out of his pursed lips effortlessly. While his metallic knuckles remained still after the blow, his mouth quivered ever so noticeably. Whatever anger had consumed him had passed now, leaving nothing but puddles of indignancy and frustration wetting his eyes and screwing his brows. While seeing the staggered Theo prodded the pale-faced Ahote with guilt, not a shred of regret plastered across his expression by the way he stared at his downed companion with such round, unblinking eyes. Some things in this world could only be settled with a fist, or so he was taught. But in looking at the unfortunate situation, the man was beginning to think differently.

Whatever the alternatives could've been, Ahote chose the path of most resistance and virtually got what he wanted: for Theo to stop. But alas, the nothing had made him feel more awful today than this. But the silence was far more perturbing than Theo's disappointed words, and so Ahote spoke in a low, sharp voice, begrudgingly, "It comes from a good place, Theo," he started, words struggling to leave his trembling throat as if he were choking on the words, "but don't look down on me." he cursed, an awful hissing noise to match his shaking words. But his tongue did not quiver with anger, no. Instead, it wiggled with fury. His darkly, wide eyes and pale expression complimented each other so perfectly he mimicked the sight of a contemplating man itching amidst his brooding. Guilt consumed him, but ire possessed the serpent at this moment.

As Theo whisked past them, Ahote could say nothing, yet his lips puckered as if he were trying. Silence only emerged and suddenly his glowering expression was washed over by furtive waves of uncertainty, a face only men who doubted their own words could wear. He quickly peered over his shoulder, and still could only hesitate. Again, nothing but silence. Perhaps space was what they both needed, Ahote thought. He hoped.

Yet he was quick to remember that he and his most trusted Theo weren't the only ones watching. Ahote faced an observing blond and the still-quiet girl who held her face to her toes, obviously avoiding eye contact. He frowned, "What is it?"